Transcendent Odyssey [Coffeepen]
Chapter 56: Don’t Touch My Priestess

Chapter 56: Don’t Touch My Priestess

PREVIOUSLY-

"Finally," the ghost muttered, rubbing his temples. "It only took an emotional breakdown, a feline betrayal, and divine patience."

Sigmund ignored him and nodded at Lira.

"Let’s move."

He turned and stepped into the alcove, stone roots curling like fangs around the entrance.

Lira followed.

Nyx padded in silently behind.

And the Labyrinth of Medusa swallowed them whole.

--x—

DING!

[STARTING STAGE (1/1)]

Bright light blanketed the area, forcing the party to shield their eyes.

"Argh!"

Sigmund opened his eyes slowly, they stood in a temple. Light descended from a broken roof illuminating a crumbling statue of the Goddess Athena.

At the foot of the statue sat a woman.

She did not look like a monster.

No jagged fangs. No grotesque maw.

No claws. No hulking limbs.

Just a woman — and that was the most terrifying part.

Her hair writhed with serpents, yes — but even they moved like mourners, slow and weary, their scales shimmering like wet obsidian under the pale torchlight.

Some curled protectively near her cheeks, others draped over her shoulder like a shawl.

Her eyes were wide — too wide — with pupils like drops of liquid gold suspended in moonlit water. They glowed, not with hunger, but with a heavy, aching memory.

You couldn’t tell if they were judging you... or begging you to look away.

Her skin was smooth, pale as sculpted marble, but streaked with faint, stony veins that glowed when she was angered or afraid.

Around her neck, the skin cracked like a broken porcelain mask — where divine punishment had first etched itself in.

A diaphanous robe clung to her body, tattered at the hem, still embroidered faintly with temple sigils — a final remnant of her time as a priestess. One shoulder was bare, as if even the cloth feared touching her too long.

She stood like a queen who had forgotten what crowns felt like — straight-backed, elegant, but hollow-eyed.

From her bare feet to her throat, there was no armour, no glamour, no pretence.

Only the curse, clinging to her like a second skin.

"Dear Travellers,"

Her eyes closed, her lips parted,

And her voice?

Soft. Feminine. Echoing — not like a roar, but a dirge.

Each word sounded like it was passing through centuries of pain.

"Are you here to hunt me?"

Sigmund stared at her for a moment, then turned to Lira,

"Have you read that novel "Lore of Olympus" by Socrates?"

Lira nodded,

"Isn’t she Medusa? The one who was introduced in the seventh volume?"

Sigmund glanced back at Medusa,

"Yes,"

"Travellers,"

Medusa’s voice boomed again,

"What are you here for?"

Sigmund turned to her,

"I have come to clear the labyrinth."

Medusa chuckled,

"Like them?"

Lira turned to see the countless stone statues that surrounded the temple, all of them looked like fellow adventurers who were turned into stone.

Lira, hesitant raised her hand,

"Miss Medusa, do we have to fight you?"

Medusa, eyes still closed, smiled,

"Child, do you also wish to hunt me?"

Lira gulped,

"Do we have to?"

"Haha!"

Medusa laughed, but her voice carried sadness,

"Why? Because I look like a monster? Because you think I am evil?"

Lira, shocked by the response, clenched her fists,

"N-No, I-I just wanted- "

"Worry not child."

Medusa smiled,

"I know you have a heart of gold. To clear the labyrinth, you will have to carry out a request of mine."

Sigmund arched his brow,

"Request?"

Medusa mused in her throne,

"A white-haired boy promised me that he would show me a different ending. An ending where Medusa lives."

A tear escaped her eye,

"Isn’t it hilarious?"

"Just give us the quest already."

Sigmund exhaled,

"Sigmund!"

Lira intervened.

"It’s okay,"

Medusa rose from her throne,

"Here is your quest. Please show me a different ending."

Blinding light erupted from the throne.

"This again!"

Sigmund grumbled, opening his eyes groggily. But the sight before him left him breathless.

They landed in silence.

The temple of Athena rose like a mountain carved by reverence — columns of white stone stretching endlessly skyward, veined with twilight gold.

Every surface gleamed, not with luxury, but with purpose — clean, orderly, absolute. Walls bore no flowers, only battle scenes: cold-eyed warriors marching in perfect lines, each etched with inhuman precision.

Statues of the goddess stood in every alcove — dozens of her, all the same — helmed, armoured, unsmiling. Each gaze followed like a judgment yet to be delivered.

The air smelled of olive oil and sanctity, but beneath that, something else lingered — like an old wound kept behind marble.

DING!

[PROTECT MEDUSA]

Lira clutched her mercury vial tight.

"It’s so... perfect,"

She whispered, "but it doesn’t feel safe."

Sigmund said nothing, but his hand was already on his sword.

"Let’s go inside."

As the party stepped inside, they were greeted by her. The woman they were supposed to protect.

Medusa.

She looked like she belonged to the marble — not carved from it, but chosen by it.

Her hair fell in soft black waves, unbound, brushing the small of her back like silk ribbon. Eyes green as olive leaves watched the temple flame with quiet focus — calm, devout, and distant.

Her skin held the warm glow of candlelight, unpainted, untouched, radiant in its simplicity. Her face could mesmerize even stones, simple yet beautiful.

Nyx purred on seeing her.

"Yes, partner. It’s her."

"Fellow believers,"

Her voice sounded like a melody. A voice that could melt stone.

"Is this your first time visiting the Goddesses Temple?"

Lira grabbed her hand,

"Miss Medusa, you must hide. Now."

Medusa patted her shoulder,

"Little girl, why would I hide. This is the temple of Goddess Athena, there is no force that could commit injustice in her temple or harm her believers."

Sigmund clicked his tongue,

"You are going to be-,"

Then came a breeze.

The stillness broke.

First, a whisper of salt — wrong in this mountain air, thick with olive groves and candle smoke.

Then the torches flickered blue. The marble beneath their feet darkened as dampness crept through stone. Something vast moved, unseen, just beyond the columns.

Lira stiffened. The mercury in her vials grew sluggish, clouded like stormwater.

"He’s coming," she breathed.

The great bronze doors of the temple groaned — not as if they were pushed open, but as if they were peeling back in fear.

He entered.

Poseidon, Lord of Storms, Warden of the Deep.

He walked barefoot, water hissing beneath his heels. Each step left sea brine pooling across the sacred floor, spreading like infection.

He was tall — impossibly tall — skin like wet bronze, muscles wrapped in kelp-silver robes that clung and shifted as if still underwater. Around his neck hung coral charms and teeth of leviathans. His eyes were not blue. They were abyssal, ancient, the color of depths no ship survived.

Medusa looked up from the brazier — the oil still burning bright — and her face bloomed with hesitant recognition.

"Lord Poseidon? You weren’t... expected today."

She bowed, instinctively. Not with fear — with duty.

He said nothing at first. Just looked at her — from hair to lips to bare shoulder, to the ceremonial cloth cinched modestly around her waist.

Then he smiled. Slow. Hungry. Not godly.

"I saw the flames from afar," he said.

"They flicker brighter when you tend them."

Sigmund stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

"State your business, sea lord. This is Athena’s house."

Poseidon didn’t even glance at him.

He reached toward Medusa, fingers dripping with saltwater.

"You serve so dutifully. But tell me... have you never wondered what it would be like to be seen by someone who doesn’t wear a helmet?"

The snakes carved into the temple pillars twitched.

Lira raised her hand, mercury flowing like breath, forming a glimmering dagger in her palm.

"Step back," she whispered.

"Please."

Poseidon turned his eyes toward her for the first time — not in anger, but mild amusement, like a shark noticing a guppy at the edge of the reef.

"A goddess asks for worship," he said, voice smooth and deep. "A god? He takes what’s owed."

Then he moved. His hand reaching for Medusa.

SLAP!

Sigmund kicked his hand away, the longsword ready in his hand. Nyx stepped between them, purring angrily.

Lira grabbed Medusa,

"Miss Medusa, please hide. This is not safe for you."

But Medusa, she was devout. Overly devout. She ran to the altar and slumped at Athena’s feet. Her lips moved in prayer,

"My Goddess, please protect your servant. I have offered my life, my chastity, my everything to you. Please shine your grace on your servant and the fellow travellers."

BOOM!

Poseidon’s fist met Sigmund’s gut, sending him flying off to a column.

"Why would you people, who don’t even belong here, protect a mere priestess?"

Nyx lunged — a blur of pale muscle and spotted fury, his fangs catching the temple sunlight like drawn blades.

His growl was thunder in a bottle, reverberating through the columns as he arced through the air, aiming straight for Poseidon’s throat.

WHAM!

The god barely moved. With a flick of his wrist, the water beneath him twisted into a coiled spear and exploded upward.

A geyser — sharp as a lance, fast as lightning.

It struck Nyx mid-leap.

The impact rang like a temple bell.

The leopard’s body twisted, momentum broken, then hurled upward like a stone flung by the ocean’s wrath.

CRACK!

He broke through the temple ceiling, trailing a spiral of water and blood — vanishing into the noonday sky.

The sunlight above wept down through the hole he’d made.

Poseidon’s voice rumbled, amused and cruel.

"It makes me desire her more."

SWISH!

Spears of mercury flew towards Poseidon. Poseidon side-stepped the spears missing him by an inch.

"What a weird power. Who are you, girl?"

Lira glanced at Sigmund, but Poseidon’s punch had knocked him out. Nyx too, was thrown somewhere out of the temple.

Left to face Poseidon alone, tears welled Lira’s eyes.

"I-I am,"

Suddenly the ground trembled. Water flooded the floor and creatures rose from them.

Slippery humanoids with eel faces, writhing necks, and bio-luminescent veins rose from the ground.

Eelborn Thralls

The swarm lunged toward her, jaws distending, bioluminescent veins flickering like warped constellations. Bolts of electricity crackled across their eel-slick bodies, lighting up the temple floor in sickening flashes.

With a snap of her wrist, Lira conjured a crescent shield of mercury — gleaming, liquid, quivering with pressure.

CHOMP!

Their fangs tore into it, pushing through like knives through gelatin. The shield rippled, shrieked, then burst into droplets. Lira staggered back, breath caught in her throat.

SWISH!

She retaliated — jagged spears of quicksilver screamed through the air, slicing toward the swarm.

PLOP!

Too slow.

The Thralls melted beneath the waterline like phantoms, the surface settling as if they’d never been there. Lira froze, glancing down.

The water had risen — knee-deep now. Brackish. Cold. The faint scent of rot clung to it like mildew in a drowned room.

Ripples fanned out from her boots.

Then silence.

No splashing. No breath. No chant. Just the heartbeat thudding behind her ears, and the quiet, hungry dark below.

Her knuckles whitened on the mercury staff.

She could feel it — not just the magic — but intent. Beneath the surface. Circling.

Waiting.

Watching.

"Come out,"

She whispered, voice trembling like a snapped string.

"I won’t run."

The water answered with a hiss of rising steam... and a dozen glowing eyes opened below.

"AARGH!"

Lira jumped in fright as a hammer of lead slammed the monsters. Blood flowed, making the water red.

"Oh,"

Poseidon raised a brow.

"Looks like there is another thing I must get my hands on."

WHISH!

The trident left Poseidon’s hand with a sound like a thunderbolt uncoiling—spinning end-over-end, a blur of bronze and saltlight, aimed straight for Lira’s chest.

CLANG!

Sigmund stepped in like a hammerhead, blade arcing in from the side. The longsword clashed against the trident mid-air, deflecting it with a shriek of metal that echoed through the ruined temple.

He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he rolled his shoulder and smirked.

"Let’s have a chat, shall we?" he said. "Horny old man."

Poseidon tilted his head, amused. A new trident materialized in his hand with a shimmer of seafoam and coral dust.

"What an entertaining pair of mortals," he mused. "Do all your kind speak this way to gods?"

But Sigmund was already in motion, blade cleaving downward in a blur.

CLANG!

Poseidon barely moved. His trident tapped the floor with delicate precision—an afterthought.

The ground howled in response.

KRAK-BOOM!

A typhoon exploded beneath Sigmund, blasting him into the rafters with a scream of wind and water. He slammed into the ceiling hard enough to crack the stone, then crashed down onto the temple steps with a wet, bone-jarring thud.

CREAK...

Even before the echo faded, coils of steel wire snapped into place—Sigmund’s contingency. They slithered out from under the rubble like silver vipers, wrapping Poseidon’s arms, his legs, his torso. Each strand tightened like it was alive.

Poseidon glanced at them with mild interest.

"These toys..." he murmured, flexing one arm as the wires groaned,

"...Cannot bind a god."

CRNK!

Frost bloomed across the wires—Sigmund’s next trick. Ice surged through the coils, turning them into crystal serpents braced to shatter.

Poseidon exhaled once—bored.

The ice burst apart in a spray of glittering shards.

Behind him—

"RAWR!"

A streak of white blurred through the mist.

Nyx.

He came in from a blind spot, fangs aimed for the god’s exposed nape. Poseidon pivoted smoothly, trident raised.

"Beasts..." he sighed,

"They never learn."

CRACK!

The shaft of the trident met Nyx midair—an impact like a tsunami smashing into a cliff. But the leopard twisted mid-flight, paws planting briefly on the weapon itself.

He leapt over Poseidon’s head, vanishing into the mist.

WHOOSH!

A geyser erupted behind the altar—but it struck nothing.

Poseidon blinked.

"Where—?"

"RAWR!"

Nyx burst from the flood at Poseidon’s flank, fangs gleaming, claws slicing.

He raked his teeth across Poseidon’s side—flesh tore.

WHAM!

The god staggered half a step, seafoam spraying from the wound. For the first time, divine ichor shimmered in the air—silver-blue, hot as molten light.

Nyx landed in a crouch, growling, tail swishing like a war banner.

Poseidon’s face finally changed.

For the first time, Poseidon’s expression shifted — not in pain, but in acknowledgment.

"So,"

He murmured, brushing a finger across the wound.

"You are no ordinary familiar."

Nyx landed behind him with feline grace, his white pelt marred by seafoam and blood, tail lashing like a whip. He growled, crouched low, eyes locked on Poseidon’s spine.

CRACK!

Chains of mercury burst from the floodwater — summoned by Lira’s trembling hand. They coiled upward like serpents, wrapping around Poseidon’s arms and legs in a sudden, coordinated strike.

She screamed through gritted teeth, "Now!"

FWIP!

Steel wires danced in the air — guided by Sigmund’s fingers. The young warrior stood atop a collapsed pillar, his left eye twitching, lip split, clothes soaked and torn. But his gaze burned with calculation.

The wires sang — crossing paths with Lira’s chains, forming a latticework of entrapment.

Poseidon’s feet sank half an inch deeper into the flooded floor.

Still smiling.

"You two..."

He said, flexing his arm slightly. The chains groaned.

"...actually, think you can bind me?"

Lira’s voice quivered, but her spell held.

"We don’t need to bind you forever—"

"We just need long enough," Sigmund growled, "—to rewrite this ending."

SPLASH!

Medusa, forgotten in the fray, now knelt before the shattered statue of Athena, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her voice rose in trembling prayer:

"My goddess... I gave you my life. I ask only for a moment. Just one breath of justice."

The stone floor trembled beneath them.

Poseidon’s eyes narrowed.

"No."

He surged upward — the chains snapped, the wires snapped —

—but not before Nyx roared and latched onto Poseidon’s shoulder again, forcing his aim wide.

BOOM!

A blast of water ripped through the side of the temple.

When the steam and debris cleared, Poseidon was gone. In his place stood one Deep Leviathan, four Stygian Crabs and a dozen Oceanborne Colossi.

WHAM!